I haven't written anything of note lately, which is indicative of the mood I'm in. I'm not producing anything worthwhile in my non-diary writings, and even my diary, which is supposed to be my own little Pensieve (Bonus points and a personalised, saucy limerick for the first reader who can tell me what a Pensieve is) has been sadly lacking of late...
Enough whinging. On with the show.
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Felicity, one of my colleagues, got married on Saturday. Sadly, I wasn't able to attend the reception that evening, but I did go to the actual ceremony and the luncheon afterwards. And, poppets? She was gorgeous. Stunningly beautiful, with a glow that can only be born of true love and complete happiness.
I don't look good in this shade of green, do I?
The dress was blindingly white, with a sweetheart bodice that had a two-inch band of Svaworski (Swavorski?) crystals lining the top. It had thin straps that criss-crossed in the back, and they had crystals all along them. Her veil and parts of her dress had a fairy sprinkling of crystals throughout.
Ohh, it was lovely. She shimmered! She sparkled! I want to shimmer, poppets. I want to sparkle! I want to shine and carry flowers and kiss a handsome man who's completely enamoured of me. Everybody else gets to do it! I wanna do it too!
At some point, did I say "Enough whinging?" Did I? Yeah, forget I said that. I'm going to whinge until the day before my wedding which, at this rate, is scheduled for the exact moment that Hell grows an icicle.
Craziness! I'll make someone a fabulous wife one day! No, seriously! Aside from getting my mother off my back, marriage to me would prove beneficial in so many ways! For one thing, I totally intend to be rich one day. Ok? So, right there, bonus! And then? I've got childbearing hips! So, like, totally ready to produce an heir(ess) to the kingdom... or queendom, as the case may be, because really, I can't expect him to make as much money as I intend to do one day. Also? I make an excellent dance partner, so we can always look good on the ballroom floor at those formal functions that other captains of industry will be holding in my honour...
And then? And then? My best friend? She's the Queen of England, so we'll always have good tea in the house! Oh, and when we want a night to ourselves, I'll just call my buddies Madonna or Nicole Kidman or someone, because I'm sure they'll be willing to take the kids for the night! And of course, if you marry me, you'll have to totally understand that I have a standing Tuesday night engagement with Ewan McGregor. Except when I cancel. Because Jude Law calls...
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I swear, I'm going to try to get some more sleep tonight, poppets.
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